The Choice
by ZakoBattledroid
Summary: Reality comes crashing down on a necromancer.


**The Choice**

Deep and heavy pulsing echoed from his heart to his head. A chaotic vibration of desperation of an individual that had been pushed past his limit one too many times. Screams and reverberations of a battle hard fought and lost. It was a sad conclusion that had occurred one too many times. One could only be beaten down and pushed so far before he finally succumbed to the harsh, unforgiving truths of reality.

Armed with nothing more than a cracked ebony war-axe, a lone Breton hiked up a trail in the woods. His full suit of ebony armor had large chunks missing, revealing horrific wounds on his body. His breathing was a heavy, ragged hiss. Jakrelkill Valbanill had endured a battle that would have killed most other humans.

He trudged up the path like a zombie, unaware of his surroundings. If there was anything dangerous lurking in between the trees, Jakrelkill did not care at this point. Death would be a sweet release from the physical pain he felt at this point, not to mention the emotional torture of having lost his giant pet scorpion, Krunch. But there was one thing that kept him going, one that that forced his muscles to move. The one thing that kept him from giving up would soon be within his reach.

The further up the path he walked, the more the flora changed. The plants native to Mundus gave way to foreign entities. Grotesque, vile things that might be considered vegetation had they been found in someone's skooma-induced nightmares. They were native to realm of Spiral Skein. Though this had told Jakrelkill that he had returned home.

A beetle the size of a large wolf skittered out from in between the eldritch flora. It sported large, scissor-like mandibles. It superficially resembled a shalk, though the mandibles were larger and it only had three legs instead of six—two forward legs and a single back leg running parallel with his abdomen.

"You don't look so good. How did the battle with Tanden Anaden go?" the bug asked.

"Not now, Claw. I'm not in the mood."

The beetle's armored shell opened, revealing a pair of transparent wings. Claw took to the air and lazily hovered next to the necromancer as Jakrelkill trudged on.

"What matters is the outcome of your trial. Your mood is irrelevant."

"It is whether or not I feel like talking to you."

Two larger bugs stood ahead, acting as sentinels to the sanctuary. Like Claw, the two large bugs had dull, black exoskeletons. These two both sported grotesquely elongated teeth. They were known as Krieg and Krang. The bug on the right was basically an elongated, banana-shaped head mounted on four legs. His name was Krang, and he was a brain bug—individuals that served as commanders in Mephala's forces. The other was Krieg, an ant guardian. His basic body structure was similar to an ant, though his head was as long as his abdomen and ended in several pointed teeth.

Claw, Krieg and Krang were Arthrocopterans—insectoid denizens of Spiral Skein. Not all of Mephala's servants were Spider or Scorpion Daedra. There were other less humanoid beings, and the Arthrocopterans were among them. Jakrelkill had long been accustomed to them though.

"Valbanill, you've been gone for a while," Krieg said.

"Too long. Where's Xyneth?"

"She's just inside," the ant guardian replied.

The two large Arthrocopterans let the Breton pass and all three of them followed Valbanill inside.

And there she was, the one Jakrelkill wanted to see, the Scorpion Daedra, Xyneth Duskclaw. Valbanill wanted nothing more than to burrow his face into her chest and hide away from the world. It had been too long since he had felt her silky, radiant green skin. Too long had he been away from her magenta eyes. Or running his fingers through her short black hair.

"What happened?" Xyneth frowned as she examined the tattered state of Valbanill's ebony armor.

"I couldn't kill her. She killed Krunch. I barely escaped with my life."

"Oh… I see. I'm sorry to hear that." The Scorpion Daedra's black claws slowly clicked.

"Yeah. I need some help. I'm not letting that bitch get away with killing Krunch."

"Help? You needed to do this by yourself."

"You _said_ it was okay that I took Krunch along."

"And now he's dead. That is your fault."

"She's too powerful. I need you guys to come with me so we can kill her."

"Valbanill, you failed."

"So? Cut me a break. Nobody's perfect."

"Since you could not perform this simple task, Mephala has decided not to accept you."

"What? 'Cause I didn't kill the Elf? That's ridiculous."

"That is the trial that was handed down to you. You have failed."

"That's not fair! She's too powerful. Even for me."

"Sounds like a personal problem," Krang remarked.

"This is absurd! If I was strong enough to kill someone like her, I wouldn't need protection!"

"That's the problem. You're a chore Mephala has decided not to concern herself with. You're not worth it." Xyneth refused to look Jakrelkill in the eyes.

"What about the Idol Masters? Mannimarco? Hermaeus Mora? I can't keep running forever. If Sarus or Charter Black ever find me…"

"No, Jak. That's your problem. And that's precisely why Mephala has rejected you. You owe allegiance to too many, and you have proven yourself to be too weak to warrant any effort on her behalf to protect you."

"She sends me to the impossible," Jakrelkill reiterated. "I wouldn't need help if I could rely solely on my own strength."

"The strength you seek you can never acquire."

"Which is why I need Mephala. Which is why I need you." Jakrelkill felt like he was running in circles.

"Mephala has deemed you unfit. You're not worth the effort."

"What about you, Xyneth?"

"What about me?"

"You won't help me?"

"Mephala has made her decision."

"I didn't ask about Mephala. I asked about you."

Xyneth didn't answer. The Scorpion Daedra merely held a look of annoyance on her face.

"What about us?" Valbanill demanded.

"There is no 'us.'"

Jakrelkill couldn't understand why Xyneth was being so cold to him. This wasn't how she was when he had left on his quest. It was as if she were a completely different person. It felt as if she were annoyed by the fact that he was even there at all. Jakrelkill could definitely understand _that_ ; but if that had indeed been the case, she would have abandoned him a long time ago.

"Just because Mephala said 'no' doesn't mean you have to. There's more to being a Scorpion Daedra than just obeying Mephala."

"You're nothing to me, Jak. Go find someone else to hide behind."

"What? You think I'm just trying to protect myself? I don't care about that!"

"Yes you do," Xyneth interjected quickly. "You squirm from the mere mention of Siroc Sarus or Charter Black."

"To Oblivion with them! What do you know anyway? If you had been paying attention to anything I did or said you might have noticed that I…" A huge knot formed in Jakrelkill's stomach.

"That you _what_?" Xyneth snapped, demanding that he continue.

"I… I… fell in love with you." It was the most difficult thing he had ever done, but Jakrelkill had finally admitted it. To admit this was not something he ever wanted to due, especially under the current circumstances. But he felt backed into a corner and had no choice but to finally admit the truth after all this time.

The Scorpion Daedra held her hand to her mouth. "I think I'm going to throw up."

"How do you think I feel?"

"You're more pitiful than I thought. This… whatever you think this is; is over."

Jakrelkill couldn't believe what she was saying. It made no sense.

"What's wrong? What did I do wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Move on."

Before Valbanill could get another word out Xyneth gestured for Krang, Krieg and Claw to take him away.

The large insectoid creatures did as the Scorpion Daedra requested and Jakrelkill found himself nudged by Krang's large, toothy maw. The Breton knew the brain bug could snap him in half at any time. He allowed himself to be pushed along until the bugs had shoved him out of the hideout entirely.

Jakrelkill fell to the ground, dazed not by Krang's brute force but by what Xyneth had said. His heart felt like it was going to burst. He wanted to puke. But the Breton pulled himself back up.

"Let me back in!"

"It's over, Valbanill," Krang said. "Leave this place in peace."

"What if I go back and kill Anaden? I'll go kill her good and proper."

"You had your chance," Krang stated. "You should not have returned until she was dead. It's too late now."

"Dammit! Xyneth! Talk to me!" Jakrelkill yelled as loud as he could.

Krieg answered by firing a burst of lightning from his mouth. The blast nearly struck Valbanill, and the Breton finally backed away onto the trail.

Jakrelkill knew better than to start a fight. Especially when it was against people he didn't want to kill. He didn't even want to fight them. He just wanted to understand why. Why had Xyneth changed? Not just that, how had her attitude toward him changed so fast? One failed assignment couldn't have caused all of this. Mephala may have been a cruel being, but Jakrelkill knew Xyneth wasn't like that. He knew her too well. Nothing made sense. He knew she felt something for him.

* * *

Jakrelkill Valbanill decided to lay low for a couple of days in order to give his so-called friends some time to stop being so ridiculous. When he returned, he found the sanctuary gone. All traces of the presence of Spiral Skein had been wiped away. Even the plant life had disappeared, leaving nothing but barren soil. The necromancer knew they had gone through a Gate. Jakrelkill didn't think for a moment they were done with their mischief making in Mundus. It was likely they had returned to Spiral Skein and deployed back to Mundus somewhere else. They could have gone anywhere. The message was clear; they were done with him.

The Breton could barely process it all. He thought he had finally found a group of people he could call his family, thought he finally found acceptance. And he lost it all due to one stupid little Altmer that he couldn't defeat.

He had no way to fix things, not if they wouldn't let him. He couldn't stand the thought of starting out all over again. There was no one left he could even think to run to. It was the end of the line. So Jakrelkill decided to return to the place where he was happiest.

It was a simple lake. He remembered this place in better times—not that they were ever that good to begin with. But Jakrelkill had never felt so trapped as he was now. The hot air burned his eyes. The last time he was here the air was much cooler and there was a gentle breeze. Not to mention he hadn't been alone last time. There were no birds playing out on the lake this time. The entire setting did nothing to alleviate his feelings of isolation and hopelessness.

Xyneth was everything Jakrelkill had ever wanted out of life. She had offered and teased him with happiness and ripped it away with no real explanation at all. It wasn't fair, but then again, life never was.

What did it matter anymore? So what if any of his old masters caught up to him? Jakrelkill was always running, always trying to get away from things he couldn't fix. No matter how hard he tried, things only ended up worse. How could anyone possibly have this bad of luck? Was his luck attribute at a flat zero?

No one was going to save him now and Jakrelkill Valbanill didn't have the resolve to save himself. He wasn't capable enough but it wasn't a question of capability now, he simply no longer cared. That slight sliver of hope that he had always carried in his heart, that stupid sense of hope that he might some day escape from the specter of his past, was gone. There was nothing left now, not without Xyneth. That cruel Scorpion Daedra had tricked him into thinking that things could get better, that he could be wanted, that he could be happy. It was all gone, nothing but a fairy tale. Such things only happened in the pages of dusty old books. Real life wasn't like that. Jakrelkill felt like a fool, he had already known this and yet he had allowed himself to be deceived otherwise.

He pulled out a simple gold ring from his pocket. He had dubbed the trinket the Suicide Ring. He originally intended the ring for a different purpose but instead he had enchanted it to Burden the wearer.

He looked out at the lake, remembering the time that he and Xyneth held hands and looked out upon the lake and watched the birds go by. He could not believe he had been so happy to just enjoy the breeze as she idly played with his hand. He had certainly been an easy man to please. He hated that happy memory. He despised that something so simple haunted his dreams. He had no peace and he would have no closure. He had been so stupid to open up to another, and a Scorpion Daedra, of all things. He should have seen this coming, should have known it would never work.

Jakrelkill had made his choice. With no last words to speak, he waded into the water. He kept going until he disappeared into the depths. The magical ring had done its job; he did not float up.

Out of instinct and a pure primal urge to survive, Jakrelkill held his breath for as long as he could. His lungs soon started screaming for air and when he opened his mouth he was assaulted by water. Jakrelkill's despair turned to panic. He started to flail, and he caught himself trying to reach for the ring that kept him from floating up. Everything quickly turned to black.

* * *

There was a blinding light. Was he supposed to go towards it? At this point Jakrelkill wasn't sure where he would end up. There were many places a soul might go. As long as he didn't end up trapped in the Soul Cairn for all eternity he didn't much care. There wasn't just light, but an uncomfortable heat as well.

His eyes opened. The Breton coughed up some water before jerking upwards. Looking around, he saw he was at the edge of the lake. Bony figures caught his notice just before they dissipated. Jakrelkill checked his hand; the Suicide Ring was gone. He looked around for the ring and cursed as he realized what had happened. Somehow he had unconsciously summoned skeletons. They had removed the ring and pulled him from the lake.

What a failure. He couldn't even kill himself without screwing up.

The light from the glaring sun combined with the heat was irritating him. He was roasting in his broken ebony armor. The necromancer picked himself up and trudged over to the shade of a nearby tree. He leaned against the trunk and collapsed in a pile.

The Breton closed his eyes and let his mind wander ferociously until it went blank. The shade of the tree provided some measure of comfort. If he had to be alive and miserable that was one thing, but at very least he didn't need to bake in the sun's cruel glare.

"What will I do now?" Jakrelkill asked himself.

"Surrender all your gold and valuables," an answer came.

The Breton's eyes snapped open. There were several armed and armored people before him. The group of comprised of several different races: Elves, Orcs, Imperials, Redguards, and Argonians. The leader, the one who had spoken, was a female Altmer. Jakrelkill found he somewhat funny as he was in his current situation because he had failed to kill a female Altmer.

"I have no patience to deal with sniveling worms like you," Jakrelkill said. "Begone."

The bandits started laughing.

"Are you all stupid? Does it _look_ like I have anything of value?"

"You wear high-quality armor that is heavily damaged. This implies you are skilled in battle if you were able to walk away from such a horrific encounter alive. Someone such as yourself must have accumulated a small fortune in gold and rare weapons," the bandit leader explained. "We will not underestimate you."

"Then you should have killed me when I had my eyes closed! Should have shot me with an arrow or slung a fireball at me. Froze me. Hit me with a Silence spell. Something. Idiots. I swear." Jakrelkill lazily looked around at his adversaries, counting twelve of them in all.

"You were not asleep. You would have avoided it. And we can all avoid a fight if you just surrender your valuables."

Jakrelkill blinked with disbelief. "You're all bandits, right? How many people do you come across that actually surrender their stuff?"

"More than you would think. People are cowards."

"Does it look like I'm a coward? I don't even fear death. I welcome it."

"Then we can help you along, then."

"By all means, if you're able. I'm not in the mood to play games. You fucked with the wrong necromancer. Kill me if you can because if you don't, I'm gonna kill you." Jakrelkill's despair and frustration was so powerful it very nearly created a physical aura around him as he stood up.

The bandits hesitated, only dimly aware of the danger they were in.

A dark purple aura enveloped the necromancer's hands as he summoned a small horde of skeletons. Jakrelkill didn't bother with the low-level fighters, no. He summoned his the heavy hitters, the bonemen—black skeletons several times stronger than typical skeletons. And they weren't just the bonemen of humans, but of several different races, including Scorpion Daedra.

Without a word from their master, the undead attacked the bandits in a single wave. Axes, swords, arrows, whips, claws, all struck at each other in a frenzy tornado of carnage. It was not a battle; it was a slaughter.

The grass became soaked in blood. The buzzing mosquitos had been provided the feast of a lifetime.

Jakrelkill started looting around the corpses, even before the fighting had ended. The shredded bodies of the bandits didn't have anything interesting. Just as the necromancer thought, he was dealing with nothing more than unskilled rabble. But he did find plenty of alcohol on them—ales, beers, wines, and mead.

Jakrelkill Valbanill picked up one of the bottles and merely stared. He felt like it was staring back at him. He had made his choice. He downed the whole bottle. He went to the next bottle, then the next. The warm feeling in his stomach grew. His senses dulled. His thoughts started to swirl around in a vortex until they were lost in a fog of inebriation. Valbanill had finally given up. He couldn't kill himself but the booze certainly helped the pain go away. It helped him to forget his troubles and to forget that he had once been happy. But it would never last; he would regain his senses at some point. He needed more to make the painful memories go away. His body had found a new purpose, to drink and drown his tortured soul in booze.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** If you're wondering what happened to Valbanill after this, he shows up in my other Elder Scrolls story, _Scorpions and Skeletons_.


End file.
